


let me in

by bambirouge



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cuddling & Snuggling, Kissing, M/M, Miscommunication, Non-Sexual Intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27791101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bambirouge/pseuds/bambirouge
Summary: Jaemin hears the double thunk of Jisung’s shoes hitting the floor, then the rustling of his blankets in the darkness. He tries not to talk too much during these nighttime oases, afraid of spooking Jisung back into shyness, but Jisung has followed him back here like a shadow almost every night of the week this month. He’s proven himself difficult to get rid of—not that Jaemin has tried.
Relationships: Na Jaemin/Park Jisung
Comments: 11
Kudos: 150
Collections: nap cinematic universe





	let me in

**Author's Note:**

> finally, the third installment of the napcu! this one is a little lengthier with just a pinch of angst, but it's still gooey n soft to the core <3 it goes with the fourth track of [this album](https://open.spotify.com/album/11uXDArfb3fe5ortxBZTN3?si=4HNATeEdRfaSDJ1qyQAUMA) !

It’s not that Jaemin _sets out_ to antagonize Jisung. That’s just the way things always go.

“Get _off_ —”

A palm connects with Jaemin’s cheek and he can feel eyes boring into the side of his head, no doubt from the person with pink hair sitting at the next table over who looks like they’re actually trying to study.

“Hey,” Jeno says, softly, “no fighting, please. Just this once.”

“Did you see?” Jisung hisses. “He’s trying to _kill_ me!”

Jaemin grins. “I’m smothering you with love, Jisungie. Stop being so cute and maybe I’ll let you live.”

“Ew. Get away.”

 _“Please.”_ Jeno looks exhausted. “I know you’ve both been high on caffeine all day, but could you spare a few moments of silence during this, the holy week of pre-finals? I am this close.” Jeno holds up his thumb and index finger, almost touching. _“This_ close to saying fuck it and making both of you drop out with me.”

Jisung grimaces, dropping his eyes to the table. “Sorry.”

“Jeno, darling.” Jaemin wraps an arm around Jeno’s shoulders, who bristles. “We’ve been here for seven hours. Maybe it’s time to call it.”

“You can do whatever you want,” Jeno replies, clipped. “Neither of you have a twenty-page literature review on antibiotics resistance due in two days.”

Jaemin heaves a sigh and retracts his arm, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the door. “All right, Sungie. That’s our cue.” He presses a hand to the top of Jeno’s head as he stands up. “Good luck on your lit review, babe.”

“Thanks,” Jeno mumbles, eyes on his laptop, but he places his hand briefly on top of Jaemin’s all the same.

Jisung follows Jaemin out the door of the library, their breath making clouds in the night. The pedway is nearly empty at this hour—it must be around one a.m. by now—but the silence is a welcome relief, and without all the other bodies that usually crowd the path during passing periods, Jaemin can pretend that he’s floating through a pleasant dream.

“I hope he comes home tonight,” Jaemin murmurs. It’s always a toss up whether Jeno will stumble in before sunrise, taking a full minute to unlock the door because his glasses are still pushed up onto his forehead.

“Mm.”

“He works too hard. I mean, he’s smart enough to get by without doing any of the extra stuff but he always does it anyway. Fucking overachiever.”

“No one can change him,” Jisung says. “Not even you.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Jaemin doesn’t say anything when Jisung follows him into the building, when two sets of footsteps echo off the concrete stairway. The dorms are quiet at this hour, and when Jisung clears his throat, the noise leaves a crack on the glass pane of silence around them.

It’s true, Jaemin never _sets out_ to antagonize Jisung. But he never means for this to happen, either.

This being, Jisung shuffling his gangly self through the door of Jeno and Jaemin’s shared dorm, then flopping onto his bed and stretching his limbs out as far as they’ll go.

“The fuck are you so _long_ for?” Jaemin asks as he hangs his jacket up in the closet. “Stop growing.”

“Can’t.” Jisung grins. “Won’t.”

“It’s not fair, I stopped junior year. Scoot over.”

Jisung does, but only by a few inches. Jaemin puts his hands on his hips.

“You know what I have to do if you don’t move.”

“I moved.”

Jisung’s barely suppressing a smile as Jaemin stares him down, eyes narrowed. He throws up a peace sign, just to be annoying, and Jaemin lunges.

“Wait! W-wait, hold on—!”

Jaemin digs his fingers harder into Jisung’s ribs as the younger wheezes. “You asked for it!”

“Please! Mercy!”

Jaemin leans over him with one knee on the bed, tickling every bit of Jisung’s abdomen he can reach, and Jisung shrieks with tortured laughter. Jaemin even reaches down to pinch his knee and reels back when Jisung _flails,_ his elbow narrowly missing Jaemin’s face. In the end, there’s space for Jaemin to lie down.

“Exhausting.” Jaemin wipes imaginary sweat from his brow. “The things I go through to sleep in my own bed.”

“Why don’t you just sleep in Jeno’s? He’s not here.”

It gives Jaemin pause—he can’t tell if Jisung is serious. There’s still a lot about Jisung that Jaemin is unsure about, even if they’ve known each other since they were both squeaky-voiced preteens; Jisung’s grown up into a shape Jaemin isn’t quite familiar with. Jaemin clears his throat.

“Maybe I will.”

He doesn’t move, and neither does Jisung. Jaemin waits for a shove to his side but it never comes.

“Can you get the lights?” Jisung asks instead, and Jaemin nods and goes to turn them off.

He hears the double _thunk_ of Jisung’s shoes hitting the floor, then the rustling of his blankets in the darkness. He tries not to talk too much during these nighttime oases, afraid of spooking Jisung back into shyness, but Jisung has followed him back here like a shadow almost every night of the week this month. He’s proven himself difficult to get rid of—not that Jaemin has tried.

“D’you really think Jeno’s gonna come home tonight?” Jisung mumbles into his shoulder. He likes to be big spoon, Jaemin has discovered; at first, it was strange to be almost completely enveloped by someone who used to be his height. He likes it now.

“Dunno. Wouldn’t hold your breath.”

Jaemin floats to the gentle, steady sound of Jisung’s breathing, wishing he could put his ear to Jisung’s chest to hear his heartbeat in harmony with his lungs. He wonders sometimes if Jisung would do this with anyone but him, but that’s a dangerous thought, and Jaemin steers away from it now as harshly as he has been since Jisung started crashing in his room.

“Have I told you about...the girl in my honors class yet?”

Jaemin’s eyes spring open in the dark. “What girl?”

“I haven’t, then?”

“No.”

Jisung goes quiet, but his arm tightens around Jaemin’s middle. Jaemin weighs his options.

“Well, are you going to tell me?”

“It’s stupid,” Jisung replies.

“You brought it up. It must be, at least... _noteworthy.”_

Another silence. Jaemin considers giving up when—

“She just sat next to me last week. And I think she’s really cool.”

Jaemin nods. “Does she dance?”

“Yeah.”

Jaemin had a feeling. He’s only been privy to knowledge about two—now three—girls who’d caught Jisung Park’s eye, and they shared a common interest.

“Is she as good as me?” Jaemin asks, slipping as much grin into his voice as he can so Jisung will know he’s teasing.

“I dunno, I haven’t seen her dance yet.”

The _yet_ tastes bitter. And not the good, soul-stirring coffee kind.

“Is she cute?”

Jisung huffs into his back. “Can we go to sleep now?”

Jaemin can’t help but laugh. He knows the exact expression Jisung is making right now, eyes squeezed shut and nose scrunched up.

“What, you don’t want to tell me about your crush? Your little crushy-wushy?”

Jisung groans. “Shut _up!_ She’s not—”

“Your crushy-crush-crush?”

“ _Quit_ —I’ll jump out the window. Right now.”

“No, don’t.” Jaemin hugs Jisung’s arm to his chest, the one that’s still looped around his torso. “We can go to sleep now.”

Jisung doesn’t respond, but there’s another puff of air at the back of Jaemin’s neck. He wishes he could see Jisung’s face in the dark, not because he doesn’t know what Jisung’s trying to say, but because he likes the look of something close to satisfaction on Jisung’s features after Jaemin’s done teasing him.

“G’night, Sungie.”

“Night.”

They fall into thick silence, which shaves itself down as their breathing slows. Eventually Jaemin drifts off, just barely registering Jisung’s thumb moving back and forth on his stomach.

///

Jaemin swears—it’s never his plan to antagonize Jisung. He wants Jisung to be happy, he really does.

But this girl—Yeoreum—is _gorgeous,_ and she and Jisung look so good just standing next to each other, and something violent rears up in Jaemin while he watches them joke about their professor. It’s hot in contrast to the cold shock that rises in him at such a reaction; before he can stop himself, he slips into the only thing he knows how to do.

“Yeah, Sungie talks about this class all the time.” He slings an arm around Jisung’s shoulders, a lightning strike of something like regret slashing through him as Jisung’s body tenses. “He says you’re a dancer. Have you told her about your new hip-hop choreo, babe?”

“Uh—” Jisung smiles apologetically at Yeoreum, whose eyes are wide as they flick back and forth between them. “Not yet, I, um—”

“He’s amazing,” Jaemin coos, resting his head on Jisung’s shoulder. “This dance cover he posted a few months ago totally went viral. I’m so proud.”

“Wow,” Yeoreum replies. “That’s, um, that’s really cool.”

“He also—”

“—Hey, uh, don’t we have to get going?” Jisung cuts in, urgently. “We have to meet, um, y’know. We have to. Jeno.”

“Ah, right. The library.” Jaemin strokes his knuckles along Jisung’s cheek and then lets go, wiggling his fingers at Yeoreum in a little wave. “Nice meeting you.”

“You, too,” Yeoreum says, who looks baffled. She waves to Jisung. “See you in class.”

“Yeah. See you.”

They make it all the way out of the honors building before Jisung stops Jaemin with a hand gripping his elbow.

“What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?”

“I told you I liked her. I told you in secret that I liked her, and you—” Jisung scoffs, looking away. “—you embarrassed me in front of her, on purpose, calling me ‘babe’ and hanging all over me—”

“—I hang off of everyone. I call everyone ‘babe’!”

“You never say it to me!”

“I was—” Jaemin gestures wildly. “—y’know! That’s our thing! I annoy you and you push me away and tell me to go fuck myself, except this time you _didn’t_ push me away, so I just kept—”

“Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe I push you away for a reason?”

“Oh, yeah? Then explain—”

Jaemin inhales the words. They’ve never even mentioned what happens after the library, not aloud, certainly not in broad daylight. Jaemin has never told Jisung that he’s gotten used to falling asleep next to him, that he doesn’t know if he can sleep _without_ him, that he knows the shape of Jisung’s hands by heart from how many times he’s traced them in the dark. It’s crossing a line; one that neither of them set but both have unwittingly upheld.

“Look, I...” Jaemin meets Jisung’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Jisung looks a little shell-shocked, standing there with his mouth partially open and his palms up like he’s ready to keep defending himself. Slowly, he lowers them, but he doesn’t offer Jaemin any words to help decipher what he’s thinking. Jaemin looks away.

“You head to the library, I’ll catch up.”

Jisung is still staring directly at him in his peripheral. “Okay.”

He doesn’t leave right away, and the moment feels like a window, like the bus pulling up to the stop when you’re still a block away. Jaemin could make a run for it, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stays put as Jisung moves on, one block, two blocks, three; he disappears in the direction of the library and Jaemin never follows.

That night, he’s awake until Jeno rattles his keys in the lock.

///

He doesn’t go to the library the next night, either.

Jeno doesn’t ask him about it at first because he’s up to his neck in books, and only stops by the dorm to shower and occasionally sleep, although Jaemin often finds him passed out in the library’s quiet section. He bullies Jeno into getting a full five hours on Wednesday, but it takes bribery, an octopus-like hold, and some well-placed whining to even get him under the covers.

“Jaemin,” Jeno finally says on Thursday morning, when Jaemin is the one crusty-eyed and slumped over in his desk chair. “Why aren’t you coming to the library?”

“Jisung and I had a fight,” Jaemin responds, rubbing over his face with both hands. “I’m trying to give him some space.”

“Really?”

Jeno’s still half-asleep when Jaemin looks over at him, sitting on the edge of his bed with his feet hanging off the side. Jaemin smiles at the sight.

“Yeah. It’ll probably be fine, though. You know us, we bounce back.”

“Sorry, Jaem. I hope so.” Jeno stretches, then hauls himself to his feet. “Well, as long as you’re able to work okay in the room. I know you hate studying here.”

“I’m...managing.”

“Uh-huh.”

Jaemin makes a face at Jeno, who’s pulling on a pair of jeans. Jeno sticks out his tongue.

“Don’t worry about me,” Jaemin says. “You’re working way harder, anyway. I wish you’d take better care of yourself.”

“In your dreams.” Jeno shoulders his backpack. He crosses the room to wrap his arms around Jaemin’s neck from behind, bending down to stick his nose in his hair. “Thanks for making me sleep, though. I feel better.”

“Good.” Jaemin smirks. “You should try listening to me more often.”

Jeno rolls his eyes. “See you at the caf?”

“Yeah, I’ll catch you later.”

The door shuts and just like that Jaemin is alone again, lit up by the same desk lamp he turned on at nine p.m. the night before.

He does miss their evenings in the library, safe in the stacks or by the big window on the third floor. He’s getting about as much done here as he did there, between all the goofing off and the snack breaks and the meme-sharing. But something that smells suspiciously like guilt has its hooks in him, and when he thinks of joking around with Jisung on the bright yellow bean bags by the sci fi section, his stomach sinks.

It’s obvious that he’d gotten a little too close; these last few weeks opened their book to a page neither of them had read before. Jaemin’s afraid to put a name to whatever had whirled around inside him when he saw Jisung looking at Yeoreum with big, sparkly eyes, but whatever it was, it was trouble.

“Jisung asked about you today,” Jeno says when he’s home that night, toweling his hair dry.

“Jeno.” Jaemin turns around in his chair. “You didn’t mention what I told you, did you?”

“No, he just asked how you were.”

Jaemin lets out a breath, one hand over his sternum. He misses Jisung’s company more than anything, especially when the dorm is empty and silent at night; just one pair of lungs, inflating and deflating.

“And what did you tell him?”

“I told him you were fine.” Jeno scoffs. “I’m not trying to meddle, Jaemin.”

“I know you’re not, I just...” Jaemin trails off. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say.

“You could try talking to him.”

“I don’t think he wants to talk to me.”

“C’mon, it’s been almost a week. I’ve never seen you separated for that long. And I don’t know what the fight was about, but you clearly miss each other.”

Jaemin bites his lip. “I...It was me who fucked up. I just don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

Jeno looks at him, blank-faced, for a long moment, before shaking his head and pulling on a sweatshirt.

“What?” Jaemin asks, defensive.

“I’m gonna go to the library,” Jeno replies. “You stay here and think about why I’ve seen Jisung standing outside our building almost every night this week, looking an awful lot like he wants to be let in.”

Jaemin’s mouth parts of its own accord as he watches Jeno leave, and when the silence returns, it feels a lot louder than before.

///

At seven p.m., Jaemin gets up, stretches, and barely talks himself out of going downstairs to check if anyone is at the door. If Jisung wants to reach out, he’ll reach out. Jaemin shouldn’t push things.

At ten p.m., Jaemin decides a walk will do him good. Just a quick lap around the dorms, nothing crazy—well, maybe a little detour in the direction of the library, just because his feet are used to it, just because he’s already heading that way. The building is a quiet, glowing beacon in the sea of dark velvet that Jaemin swishes past, cutting through the night like a scalpel. He’s walking fast due to the cold, but he stops for a while outside the library. He doesn’t go in.

At midnight, Renjun texts him that Yangyang forgot his keys. Jaemin flies down three flights of stairs, heart pounding, but all he finds waiting in front of their building is a shivering Renjun with Yangyang’s arm wrapped around him. Yangyang immediately lets go when he sees Jaemin coming, but Jaemin doesn’t miss the way Renjun’s eyes keep flicking over to Yangyang’s face like he’s expecting something.

It’s around two in the morning when Jaemin’s stomach demands to be listened to, and he heads to the market in the student resource center, dreaming of noodles. He plans to be up for another few hours at least if his rate of progress holds steady, but his eyes are already itchy with sleep and his feet drag against the pavement, making lonely echoes against the buildings flanking the pedway.

There’s a shadow of a boy waiting for him at the entrance of his building, silhouetted against the yellow light by the door. Even from far away Jaemin recognizes his shape, one hand holding one strap of his backpack while it hangs off of him, the other tapping a quick rhythm against his thigh.

“Hi,” Jaemin says when he approaches, and Jisung jumps.

“Oh. Hey.” Jisung smiles, brief and nervous. “I thought you were—” He points to the dorms.

“I was. But I went—” Jaemin shoves a thumb in the direction of the student resource center.

“Oh. Nice.”

“Are you waiting for someone?”

Jisung tugs at one pinkening ear. “I, um. Not really. I mean, kind of.”

“Kind of?”

Realization slots into place, and Jaemin’s smile sinks a little before he can yank it back up.

“Does Yeoreum live here too?”

“What?” Jisung shakes his head. “No. I’m not really _waiting_ for anyone, really, I’m just—”

“Then what are you doing out here? It’s the middle of the night. You should go home and get some sleep.”

“I miss you,” Jisung blurts.

Jaemin’s heart skips, then resumes at a faster pace.

“Yeah?” he breathes. “I miss you, too.”

“I’m sorry I got so worked up the other day.”

“No, no, it’s totally my fault. I violated your boundaries, you have every right to be mad at me.”

“I don’t—” Jisung stops, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a breath that moves his shoulders. When he looks back at Jaemin, his lips are pressed together and his eyes are cautious.

“...I don’t... _hate_ it.”

Jaemin frowns. “What? Don’t hate what?”

Jisung looks to the heavens, both hands clenching tight around the hem of his sweatshirt. “The thing you do. Y’know... _our thing._ I think that’s how you put it.”

“You mean...?”

“Do I have to spell it out for you?”

Jaemin laughs. Jisung looks like he wants to hightail it out of there, but before he has the chance Jaemin speaks up again.

“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. You mean when I, like...baby you?”

Jisung cringes. “That’s one way to say it.”

“Okay,” Jaemin chuckles. “So, you don’t hate it. Cool.”

Jaemin nods but Jisung is standing stock-still, looking ready to burst or rocket up into the sky or run twice around the world.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I push you away?”

Jaemin barely contains a grin. “I don’t know, Jisung, why do you push me away?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking. Like. The reason I was so upset at you the other day.”

Jaemin sighs. “I embarrassed you in front of your crush. It’s not that hard to figure out.”

“No, that’s not it.”

Jisung’s hands keep clenching and unclenching at his sides. Jaemin knows this mannerism; he sees it when Jisung has to speak in front of a crowd or go through a haunted house or put his hands anywhere near Jaemin’s body when they do choreography together. It means he’s terribly, horribly nervous.

“I think it’s because...I never heard you call me _that_ before, and...no one else was supposed to see. I always thought that if you ever called me anything like that I’d want it to be just us.”

Now it’s Jaemin’s turn to freeze, arms and legs and face going warm despite the chill. This is quite possibly the most Jisung has _ever_ said about his feelings in just shy of a decade of friendship. Jisung reddens at Jaemin’s silence and barrels on.

“Actually, it’s like that with everything you do. I don’t really like people touching me, and at first, that was why I pushed you away. But I got used to it, and now...” Jisung swallows. He’s breathing fast. “...now, I don’t mind it, but it’s just supposed to be for us.”

Jaemin’s heart turns to goo and then caves in on itself. He’s shattered by those last five words, those warm, quiet, affectionate words, and it’s all he can do to not to press a hand to his chest and make a sound like he’s gotten all the wind knocked out of him.

“I think I understand,” he says instead, but it comes out a little breathless anyway.

Jisung looks surprised. “You do?”

“Yeah.”

The clouds of their breath mingle with each other now, as they stand there in the middle of the night with no sound save for a distant, retreating siren.

“Do you wanna come in?” Jaemin asks, and Jisung nods, and they go in together.

It’s still what Jaemin would call _deathly quiet_ in the dorm stairwell, but he’s never felt such a rush of aliveness as he does when he stops at the stairwell door and Jisung bumps into his back.

“I left Jeno at the library,” Jisung says, walking next to Jaemin in the hall.

“Sleeping? Or studying?”

Jisung scoffs. “You think I would leave our friend sleeping in the university library? Completely vulnerable and defenseless?”

Jaemin smiles as he unlocks the door. “Of course not.”

He turns his bedside lamp on as Jisung takes off his shoes, then his coat. He catches Jisung looking around like he’s trying to take in every detail, every thread in the carpet, every empty can of coldbrew on Jaemin’s side of the room. Then, Jisung catches _him,_ and Jaemin spits out the second thing on his mind.

“You should start keeping a toothbrush here or something.”

Jisung ducks his head, one hand ruffling his hair. “Yeah, maybe I should.”

“Might make the morning breath better,” Jaemin mutters as he heads to the bathroom.

“Hey!”

Jaemin tries not to stare at Jisung in the mirror as he brushes his teeth, but it’s hard when Jisung is looking around the room all curious, poking at Jaemin’s duvet like he’s never seen it before.

When Jaemin returns, he’s lying on the bed, looking less like a starfish tonight and more like a stickbug. Jaemin prods him in the shin.

“Hey,” he says. “Don’t I have to tell you to move over?”

“Oh. Haha.” Jisung spreads his limbs out a little. “Sorry.”

Jaemin just sighs, shaking his head, because there’s still plenty of space for him. He climbs onto the bed and faces away from Jisung like he usually does, waiting for Jisung to loop his arm around his chest.

“Everything okay?” Jaemin asks after a few moments pass without sensation.

“Hm?”

Jaemin turns around so he’s facing Jisung, who’s nearly a foot away.

“If you don’t want to cuddle, that’s fine. I was just wondering.”

“Oh! Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

“No, really, it’s cool if you—”

“—I want to.”

Jaemin exhales. “Okay.”

He scoots a little closer to put his arm around Jisung’s waist, and Jisung fumbles for a second before resting his hand on Jaemin’s shoulder. It feels awkward, and different, but the close-up Jaemin gets of Jisung’s face as he smiles is worth it.

“Still all right?”

Jisung nods.

“Tell me if you aren’t,” Jaemin continues.

Jisung nods again.

“And really, if—”

“I told you I liked it.” Jisung looks down. “I...like it.”

Jaemin takes a steadying breath. “Okay. Yeah. Got it.”

There’s still a good half-foot between them, and Jisung’s body is as brittle as glass. Jaemin knows he won’t be able to sleep like this.

“You said you liked something else,” he starts. “Or, like, imagined it.”

“I did?”

“When I called you ‘babe’.”

 _“Oh.”_ Jisung swallows. “Yeah.”

“You do like it?”

“I do.”

Jaemin lifts his hand from Jisung’s side and puts it up to his face instead, thumb stroking across his cheek. Jisung seems to stop breathing entirely, now. Jaemin chuckles.

“Take a breath, babe.”

Jisung’s lungs sputter into movement, and Jaemin smiles as Jisung blushes. He almost laughs fully because the situation is so ridiculous; they’re reeling off the path and crossing every unspoken line but somehow, strangely, it fits.

“I think,” Jisung begins.

Jaemin’s still smiling. “Uh-huh.”

“I think you should maybe kiss me now.”

Every thought clears from Jaemin’s head, everything except the bare earnestness of Jisung’s face.

“Okay,” he says, and leans in.

Jaemin is used to teeth. He’s used to hunger and red light, clothing discarded in a rush and left on the floor only until the deed is done. But Jisung kisses like a bleeding heart, although he doesn’t ever say much about what’s beating steadily in his chest, and Jaemin has the brief but entertaining thought that Jisung could’ve just talked to him through kissing.

“Wait—that girl,” Jaemin says when they break apart. “Yeoreum. Why did you tell me about her?”

“I wanted to make you jealous,” Jisung says, and Jaemin stops him when he goes in for another kiss.

“You. Wanted to make _me_ jealous.”

Jisung rolls his eyes. “Yes.”

“You wanted to make me _jealous.”_

 _“Yes,_ now, could you please shut up?”

“I’m never letting you forget that one.” Jaemin shakes his head. “Sneaky, sneaky...”

“Well,” Jisung says as Jaemin kisses the corner of his mouth. “Did it work?”

Jaemin grins. “What do you think?”

They kiss until it becomes languid and lazy, barely moving against each other’s mouths. Jaemin couldn’t say how much time has passed since they came back to his room but at some point the birds begin to sing, and he sighs against Jisung’s lips and collapses next to him on the pillow.

“We should try to sleep for a few hours,” he says. His mouth is tingly with overuse, and Jisung’s glistens pink in the lamplight. “You have a final tomorrow, right?”

“Mmh.”

Jisung’s bottom lip pokes out and Jaemin is tempted to start kissing it all over again, but his eyelids are heavy.

“Here—” Jaemin kicks his blanket down so they can both crawl under it, then turns off the light. “Warm enough?”

“Mm-hm. Warm.”

“Good.”

Jaemin watches Jisung’s eyes slide shut and says a quiet _thank you_ to whatever is letting them be here in the same bed, existing at the same time. Jisung sniffs and shuffles a little closer and Jaemin’s heart swells enough to fill his whole body, enough so that every lovesick beat can be felt at the tips of his fingers and toes.

“Let’s never fight again,” Jisung mumbles. “I missed you so much.”

Jaemin aches and he lets out a breath on a grin. “Isn’t that a little ambitious?”

“Not for me.”

“Well, let’s at least promise to talk next time.”

“Okay. Promise.” Jisung smiles as he cracks one eye open. “I think I might promise you anything.”

Jisung has such a way of making Jaemin forget how to breathe, how to think, how to be. He does it now; Jaemin is a photograph as he watches Jisung slip into slumber, his mouth going a little slack and his breath evening out.

“I’d probably promise you anything, too,” he whispers, before closing his eyes and dreaming.

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/bambiirouge)
> 
> mwah <3


End file.
